


R&R

by shambling



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Gen, fam care is better, graham being a dad, self care is good for you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-11
Updated: 2020-02-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:14:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22665343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shambling/pseuds/shambling
Summary: Just a bit of fluffety fluff fluff, where the Doctor finally admits whats wrong and the fam, aware that they can't fix the problem, decide that what they can do is look after their Doctor.OrThe Doctor needs some dinner, a bath and a good nights sleep
Comments: 2
Kudos: 45





	R&R

“It’s gone” she said suddenly, one morning as they’d gathered in the console room. “My home planet. It’s gone again, and He destroyed it. I was fine not visiting because I knew it was there, knew I wasn’t the only one left, and now its gone again.” No-one needed to ask who “he” might be, but it was an answer to their question at least, and then, like a light switch, the happy sunny Doctor was back and grinning. “Where shall we go today fam?”

And so it was that the fam had hatched their little plan. A plan to look after the Doctor, the best person they knew.

*

“C’mon Doctor, the water’s lovely and warm that’s why we’re here remember?” Ryan stood, knee deep in the sparkling amethyst coloured pool, Yaz and Graham were already floating, some meters out, with twin expressions of great contentment, but the Doctor was still standing on the shoreline, fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve “But what if…”

“The TARDIS will let us know won’t it? That’s why we spent so long rigging up that beacon yeah?” And it had taken an inordinately long time to rig, trailing cables through the open door of the TARDIS down to the deserted shoreline. “It’s okay to relax a little bit Doctor,” Ryan cajoled, “You can’t only ever be saving the world and having adventures, just take 10 minutes for yourself yeah?”

And eventually, after what seemed like a very long time indeed, the Doctor nodded, let go of her sleeve and took Ryan’s hand; and stepped in. Her expression changed as soon as her foot hit the water, lightening up, like something had blown the clouds away. She took another step, and another, until they were stood side-by-side, knee deep under the warmth of an alien sun. “I’d forgotten how warm it is here.” She admitted, smiling wondrously in a way that made Ryan feel really very smug indeed. “Come on,” He said, lowering himself into the water and leaning back so that he floated, “Lie down, it’s lovely.” And so, with something akin to trepidation, the Doctor crouched, and then leant back, letting the mineral rich waters take her weight, floating so that her hair fanned out around her head in a golden halo. She let out a deep sigh and let her eyes drift close, letting her arms and legs drift gently in the geothermal currents. Briefly, she brushed fingertips with one of the fam, she wasn’t sure who, but it felt like Ryan, and gently squeezed, and then she let go again, and finally, after what seemed like an eternity, allowed herself to relax.

*

If there was one thing Graham prided himself on, it was his cooking skills. He was still hoping to teach more of them to Ryan one day, but for now, it was his skill and his alone, and he was okay with that. It had been a wrench to climb out of the pool, floating in a cocoon of perfect warmth, daydreaming; but this was for a greater cause. He sculled slowly to the edge, flashing Yaz the thumbs up when he saw her looking, and left the others to float in the setting sun. None of them had ever seen the Doctor eat much at the best of times, but she was game to try most things so Graham’s intention was a proper Sunday dinner. The beauty of the TARDIS was that she seemed to receive food deliveries and supplies as and when she detected a need for them, rather than when one actually made the effort to order; which meant that when he’d looked into the kitchen that morning everything he needed had been there and waiting. He fully intended to ask the Doc if there was a way to offer the TARDIS a plate, or whether that was a step too stupid, but first, his goal was to cook it.

He spent a happy hour or so in the kitchen, chopping, preparing, mixing and seasoning, humming to himself with pleasure. Then, with everything in the oven he set the table for four, fished out glasses, a bottle of wine he’d picked up the last time he was in Sheffield and a water jug, and went back out to the shoreline to call the others.

“Yaz, Ryan, Doc, dinner on the table in 20 minutes okay?” He found himself smiling with an air of paternal pride as the other three righted themselves and found their way up the beach. The Doctor in particular seemed to be almost glowing with well being, her cheeks flushed from the warmth. “You cooked? You didn’t have to cook I could’ve taken us somewhere.” But Graham cut her off,

“That’s alright Doc, I like cooking, and I don’t know if it’s a Sunday here but its certainly a Sunday somewhere and I fancied a proper dinner. C’mon, get some clothes on.” And she had obediently followed him back to the TARDIS, disappearing off to her room to change back into her usual clothes. Graham exchanged a small nod of satisfaction with Ryan and Yaz, and went to fetch the beacon in off the beach.

It was perhaps, the longest any of them had ever seen her voluntarily sit down for, but the Doctor ate with enthusiasm, was delighted by the discovering of sticky toffee pudding (“I can’t believe I’ve never had this before its great, can we have it again?”) and the night flowed pleasantly, with the doctor reassuring Graham that the due to her primarily telepathic nature, the TARDIS would be enjoying the meal via their enjoyment. “Or something like that. It’s hard to explain, but she’s happy.”

*

After a happy few hours in the kitchen, laughing and talking and reliving their adventures, as well as some the doctor had been on without them, they were tired. Ryan was stifling a yawn but, most surprisingly perhaps, the Doctor was too. “Tired?” Asked Yaz, smiling

“No.” the Doctor said, automatically, but she yawned again and then smiled. “Maybe a bit.”

“I’m gonna call it a night I think. Night Yaz, Doc, Ryan.” Graham stood up, stretched and ambled off into the corridor. “Yeah, me too. See you in the morning yeah?” And Ryan followed out.

“Come on Doctor, one more thing before we go to bed.” Yaz said, with a smile, “now where’s your room? You must have one.” The Doctor started to protest and then stopped. “Three lefts first on the right and then the end of the corridor from here, why?” But Yaz would only smile.

“You’ll see, lead the way.” And so the Doctor did.

Her room was both exactly what Yaz might have expected and, at the same time, nothing like it. There was an ornate bed with a brass bedframe, with deep, TARDIS coloured linens, a heavy wooden chest of draws beside it and a thick fluffy rug on the floor that seemed the same shade of yellow orange as the sonic. No apparent sources of light, just the soft glow that permeated all of the TARDIS, and not much in the way of furniture; but then Yaz supposed she had a whole entire TARDIS to hold the things most peoples bedrooms did.

Yaz sat down on the bed, kicking off her shoes and sitting cross legged, and patted it beside her. The Doctor sat down, toeing off her own boots and mirroring Yaz, who reached into her pocket and drew out a little tube of hand cream, from a bazaar they’d visited the week before. “Give me your hand” Yaz said, and the Doctor obeyed. Yaz took it and started to gently massage the hand cream in, working in small circles, pressing gently, “My mum taught me to do this, I think she learned it from her mum, it always used to make me feel relaxed when I was stressed, and it still does.” The doctor made small listening noises as Yaz worked, sitting almost completely still for once, but without tension. “She always used to say to me, ‘Yasmin Kahn you have to remember to look after yourself, then you can work on looking after other people’ and I’d wonder what she meant, and then I started as a probationer and I started to understand you know?”

The Doctor nodded, a small nod, Yaz moved onto the other hand. “It’s not selfish you know Doctor. I’m not saying it’s not amazing what you do, because it is, and I wouldn’t change you for the world yeah? I’m just saying, it’s okay to look after yourself sometimes as well. We’ve got a time machine, you can’t cross into established events I know.” She held up a hand and the Doctor closed her mouth again. “But by definition, you’re always going to be able to arrive at the start of something aren’t you? And if that means it’s an hour longer in your life, but you don’t look like you’re holding yourself together out of sheer determination, then isn’t that worth doing?” The Doctor gave a small nod, and an even smaller smile. Yaz carried on massaging and pressing, she was fascinated by the Doctor’s hands, intrigued to discover that up close, the smooth skin had a constellation of tiny imperfections, scars and marks, almost invisible to the naked eye, presumably from welding sparks and previous adventures with the TARDIS. The hands of someone who worked with them.

“There.” Said Yaz, a short while later, as the two of them sat in companionable silence. “I’m not going to inflict a manicure or anything on you, and frankly, you’re old enough to get yourself ready for bed, but I,” she stopped, “We, we all want you to remember that we do know you, and you’re the greatest person we know; but we also know that sometimes even heroes have to look after themselves a little bit okay?” She released the Doctors hands and stood up with a smile. “Sleep well Doctor.” And the Doctor smiled.

“Yaz,” she called, as Yaz reached the door. “You might be the wisest people I know, you three. Thank you.” Yaz smiled, stepping through the door way, and glancing back over one shoulder, “Thank you Doctor, for showing us how.”

The Doctor changed into her pyjamas and settled down amongst the soft sheets. Maybe, just maybe, she could relax, just for a little while. Tomorrow was another day.

**Author's Note:**

> This is only about the second time i've written for DW, so I hope this fixit fluff makes someone else happy.
> 
> FYI, my mental image is that the doctor is going swimming in a rash vest and board shorts


End file.
